


Death Eater's Advocate

by katehathaway



Series: Only Everything [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, BAMF Hermione Granger, Banter, Blood and Injury, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Death Eater Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy is Held Captive by Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy is Injured, Draco Malfoy is So Done, Eventual Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Explicit Language, F/M, Hermione Granger Takes Care of Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger is Wanted, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, POV Draco Malfoy, Post-Hogwarts, Secret Identity, Sex, Stockholm Syndrome, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katehathaway/pseuds/katehathaway
Summary: The Dark Lord was successful in killing Harry Potter, and the wizarding world has suffered under the new reigns of his unforgiving band of Death Eaters. The Order has since been hunted down and marked as enemies of the new political state. The Canary is a notorious member of the resistance and is wanted for relaying crucial information about the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. As such, there is a steep reward for whomever manages to seize this faceless, nameless war criminal. Seize is not exactly the word Draco Malfoy would use to describe how the interaction went, but hey, he didn't expect to discover who the Canary really was… and he certainly didn't expect to fall in love with her either. Canon-compliant until Battle of Hogwarts.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Only Everything [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788676
Comments: 1
Kudos: 62





	Death Eater's Advocate

Believe it or not, the sound of his wand snapping in half was immensely more painful than when his femur had shattered only minutes ago.

"WHAT THE FU - "

"Shut up, Malfoy. I have no intention of getting caught by your babbling band of baboons today." Granger warned him bossily.

He stared at her blankly, then grimaced at the splintered wood at her feet. His leg was throbbing, bleeding profusely, and apparently, she didn't have any intention of doing anything about that either.

"You plan on leaving me here to die, then?" He seethed.

"Not at all," she called over her shoulder as she created a protection spell around them.

"Then what the fu - "

She cut him off again, stuffing an old rag into his mouth with an impatient huff.

"I may have to live off the grid now, Malfoy, but I'm not so ill-informed that I know you'll call for your precious Death Eater friends at the earliest opportunity." Her gaze flicked over to his broken wand before returning to his narrowed eyes. "Like I said, I don't plan on being found today."

He mumbled something incoherent through the dirty cloth to which she dramatically sighed, pressing a dirty fingernail to her pursed lips.

"No, probably not tomorrow either. May be next week? I'll have my assistant get in touch with your people," she replied drily.

He screamed obscenities into the rag while she turned to continue her work on the spell, securing a boundary around them and effectively rendering him her captive. This was decidedly not how Draco imagined his day going, but there they were. His grey eyes flickered down to his leg again, the sight of it alone causing him to gag, and he knew for certain that she had no need to charm him into immobility. He wasn't going anywhere any time soon, and that's presuming that he lived through his wound.

"It's not _that_ bad," she said, reappearing at his side.

She knelt beside his thigh, bending her head to analyze the wound she'd inflicted. A frizzy curl fell in her face, but she brushed it away hastily before summoning clean bandages with a flick of her (perfectly intact) wand.

Her brown eyes lifted to his mouth, "I don't have to worry about keeping you quiet anymore, but I'm going to leave that there for a few more minutes. For both of our benefit,"

Draco squirmed, trying to dispel the cloth from his mouth so that he could properly tell her where he'd rather place it, but instead let a strangled scream dissipate into it.

Her hands made fast work of cleaning the mangled flesh of his upper thigh, setting his bone back in place and securing it with metal barbs, sewing a thread through his skin in a meticulous fashion, and then wrapping his leg with stark white bandages that quickly reddened.

Finally, she removed the dirty cloth from his mouth and cast it into the firepit beside them.

He inhaled sharply as he stared at her with as much venom as he could muster in his woozy state, then spat at the forest floor between their legs.

"Why don't you just kill me?"

"I don't want to kill you," she shrugged. "Call it my debilitating belief in morals."

He scoffed, "You don't want me dead? Well, it's hard to believe you want me to fucking survive, Granger."

She tucked her wand into her back pocket, away from his accusatory glance.

"Perhaps, I want you to suffer a bit. Feel the pain."

"It would be fucking impossible not to with that stunt you pulled," he growled, wincing as he attempted to shift his weight, feeling his left side start to go numb from putting too much weight on it… or from too much blood loss. Who fucking knew?

She shrugged again. "It was necessary."

"Un- _fucking_ -believable. Just wait until I get my hands on you, you filthy mu - "

"Tsk-tsk," she said, arching a brow. "That's no way to treat someone who stopped you from bleeding out, Malfoy. I just saved your life, you know. Your welcome."

"Saved my… YOU'RE THE ONE WHO BLOODY PUT IT IN DANGER IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"Eh, you were chasing me. I invoke self-defense."

He gaped at her, watching as her facial muscles barely twitched while his were inescapably lost to his rising temper. How she could be so calm was beyond him.

She stood up and wiped the blood – _his_ blood – from her hands onto another rag. "You might as well try and get some sleep. It's going to be a long night."

"Fuck you,"

"Sorry, a bit busy at the moment. Maybe later."

Draco was usually quite level-headed, in fact, he was almost always the choice when Tom wanted someone disposed of quietly and cleanly. It was how he'd ended up in this bloody situation to begin with; the Death Eater's had gotten wind of Granger's whereabouts and sent him to get rid of her. He hadn't imagined she'd see him coming – none of the other Order members had – and had been ambushed by her the moment he apparated into the forest.

Now, here he was, her captive for however long she planned on keeping him alive. Draco wasn't an idiot; he knew she was eventually going to kill him, but probably not before she managed to get him to spill all of his secrets.

Well, if that was the case, two can certainly play at that game. All he had to do now was trick Granger into revealing everything she knew about the remainder of the Order, their beloved Canary and their stupid plan to rebel against Tom.

"You look like hell, Granger." He commented, taking in not only the abhorrent state of her hair, but also the dark circles under her eyes. There was the fact that she didn't seem to fill out her clothes quite as well as she used to when they had been in school together, too.

"You're one to talk," she retorted.

"BLOODY HELL, NO THANKS TO YOU, YOU - "

The remainder of his slight was cut off by the insertion of another rag into his mouth.

Fucking excellent.

Really fucking excellent.

* * *

Draco woke to find himself in a small cot which explained the terrible kink in his neck and left shoulder. Unfortunately, his pain didn't end there. Upon regaining consciousness, his brain unhelpfully reminded him of the major wound he'd suffered the day before.

He threw the itchy cover aside, grimacing at the black and blue splotches along his bare thigh. The stitching job seemed impeccable, aside from the fact that its very existence made him want to retch.

"Oh, god, please don't be sick again."

His head snapped up, sending a throbbing migraine up the forefront of his skull, to see the familiar face of a bushy-haired witch enter his dizzying vision. He forced himself to swallow the bile that rose in his throat and pushed his greasy hair back from his damp forehead.

"What?"

"Yeah, it was unpleasant. Not the vomit, of course, that was expected given the circumstances." – Circumstances, he thought, that _she_ had bestowed upon him – "Seeing you naked, I mean. _That_ was most unpleasant," she said, shivering from the supposed memory.

" _Excuse me_?" He hissed.

"Well, I thought it would hardly be sanitary to let you sleep in it. I had to take your clothes off before putting you in the bed, then I burned them."

"YOU WHAT?"

She scoffed, "Relax, I'm only messing with you. They're over there, drying."

He followed her extended finger to see his clothing – an exceptionally well-crafted navy suit – hanging by the firepit through a flap in the spacious tent they were in. He glanced down again at his body, noting that he was, in fact, nude except for his tight-fitting underwear.

"Briefs," she teased, "I would've pegged you as more of a boxer kind-of guy."

"Fuck you,"

She only smirked in response.

Then, she pulled up a stool and sat beside his cot, wrapping a clean bandage over his wound that would no-doubt form a nasty, jagged scar with the way she planned on treating it. She was so close to him, her frizzy curls practically touching his cheek; he inhaled the sweet scent of roses that must be from her shampoo or something.

Draco yearned to wrap his fingers around her neck and force her into subconsciousness. He didn't though. Firstly, because he still needed to do find out what she knew of the whereabouts of the few remaining members of the Order, including the prized Canary, and secondly, because he couldn't see her wand in her back pocket anymore.

It was mostly for the sake of the second one (though the first would undoubtably result in him moving up in the ranks of the Death Eater's and was therefore also tempting) that he exhaled a shaky breath and turned to her with a mostly innocent expression.

"You really should just kill me, you know."

She said nothing, her slender fingers – thankfully cleaner this morning – trailing around the hardness of his injured quad and hamstring.

"At least then, I wouldn't be able to annoy you anymore."

She scoffed, "That's certainly true."

"So, why don't you?" He asked, trying desperately not to wince as she tied off the bandage with what he presumed to be an unnecessary amount of pressure.

"Why do you want to die so badly?" She countered.

He noted that while she had finished caring for his leg, her hands had yet to remove themselves from his warm body; her fingertips, slightly cold, were resting lightly on the inside of his unscathed thigh.

"Who says that I do?"

Her eyes narrowed, and he willed himself to keep a grimace from forming on his lips as she searched his face for something. Something, it turns out, that she did not find seeing as she averted her gaze without another word.

"How long do you plan on keeping me here, captive?" He demanded, abruptly switching the topic of conversation, intent on getting her talking somehow.

She glanced at his thigh, pursing her lips when the bandages began to turn pink, then red, again.

"Three to four weeks at least, though I would hardly say you're captive, Malfoy. That's a bit dramatic even for you, don't you think?"

"As if I could fucking leave in this condition? I'd say captive is quite accurate, Granger."

"Agree to disagree," she shrugged.

"You could always let me go," he ventured, arching a silver brow in her direction.

"Yeah, ok," she rolled her eyes. "I'd sooner die."

He smiled mercilessly, "That can be arranged."

When she didn't so much as flinch at his words, his brows furrowed. She had always been so receptive of his threats… so reactive. It's what made it so fun when they were in school together. He'd enjoyed teasing her the most out of anyone, because it always, _always_ resulted in a violent reaction.

Sure, there was always the risk that she would slap him but what was the point of the taunts if not for the thrill of danger?

If she had simply let her bushy head fall and withheld her sharp tongue, he would have tired of teasing her long ago.

Which is why it was extremely unnerving for him that she could so casually meet his eyes now without so much as a dangerous glint in hers.

"What's the matter, Granger? My threats not good enough for you anymore?"

"No," she admitted, her voice quiet. "I'm too used to receiving them now from Death Eater scum like you. You're going to have to up your game, Malfoy."

He scowled.

"Don't flatter yourself," he said. "The only reason any of us threaten you is because you belong to that senseless band of rebels. It's not like you're a member of importance, Granger."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He struggled to prop himself up on his elbows.

"You know what I fucking mean. Don't act like you and the rest of the Order don't know there's a fucking bounty out for the capture of your precious Canary."

"Ah," she said, her face betraying nothing.

Then, much to his dismay, she stood and moved away from him, to the other side of the tent where she poured herself a cup of tea and lifted it to her lips with a particular expression flashing across her face that he couldn't quite interpret.

She knew something. He was sure of it.

What exactly it was that she knew he was less fucking sure of.

* * *

Granger was a fucking vault.

He had been bed ridden for days now and could do very little other than talk, eat, or sleep. Draco had primarily practiced the first of his limited activities whenever she was in the tent, which was not that often.

She mostly went out in the late morning, then came back when the sun started to go down. Only once had it rained in the last few days, causing her to change her schedule and actually spend time in the tent with him. At first, she kept to herself and read a book, ignoring any attempt at conversation with him.

Because of that, he mostly ended up talking himself into delirium.

If he was going to get her to spill her secrets, he was going to have to do a better job at getting her to talk to him. Since his old tactics hadn't worked – unsurprisingly since there hadn't been much subtlety involved and any time the Order came up, she immediately shut down – Draco knew he was going to have to try something a bit different.

The next morning, when she was changing his bandages and applying a slimy salvation onto his wound, he propped his hands behind his head and gave her a casual grin.

"Well, Granger, if we're going to be spending so much time together, we may as well get to know each other."

"I already know plenty about you."

She didn't meet his eyes, instead sweeping across the jagged mark she'd inflicted as well as stitched up. Then, her fingers began tracing along the raised, inflamed skin surrounding the deep gash.

A hiss escaped his lips.

This time her eyes did flicker up to meet his and her head ducked slightly; she could tell he was in agony, and this time it seemed she actually might have given a shit about it.

When her hands retracted, resting as they usually did on his other thigh, he let out a shaky breath.

"You only know me from Hogwarts," he noted. "It's been years. I'm hardly the same egotistical prat I was back then,"

She arched a brow, "I seriously doubt that."

" – and I bet that you're not the same magnanimous swot."

"You know a _magnanimous swot_ is exactly the type of person you should hope I am, actually."

"Whatever," he replied, waving a hand as if it would dispel her argument altogether. "My _point_ is that I don't think we truly know each other. Would it really be so bad if you got to know me?"

Her response was instantaneous.

"Yes."

"Ok, rude." His eyes shifted from her frizzy hair, unskillfully plaited that day, to the torrential downpour outside of the tent. "Well, is there something better you have to do today?"

Her head turned toward the half-open flap, then to her small stack of books on the side of her cot, then back to his arrogant and awaiting smile.

"Yes, actually, I'm almost certain _anything_ would be better than talking to you."

She swiftly stood, but he reached out a hand, closing it around her wrist.

"I will talk to you regardless, until your ears bleed. In fact, I will bother you until you finally decide to kill me. How does that sound?"

"You… are a pompous swine."

"And that's only chapter one, Granger. Just you wait,"

She reluctantly sat back down, foregoing her relaxed position where her hands rested on his bare legs for one where her arms crossed angrily in front of her torso, not touching him at all. Not that he gave a fuck. Obviously.

"So, what did you have in mind?"

"Oh, just the real deep stuff, you know."

She sighed, "Like what, Malfoy?"

"What's your favorite color?"

"That's it," she shook her head. "You've gone too far."

Draco wanted to tell her it was only a fucking joke and that she needed to lighten up, but then he realized her head was bent to cover her laughing. Her shoulders were shaking not because she was crying, but because she was stifling her laughter.

"You _are_ a fucking swot still," he commented, shaking his head in bemusement.

"Shut up," she retorted.

"Seriously, though, what is it?"

"What? My favorite color? Really?" – he nodded – "Err, blue I guess."

"You guess? Fuck, Granger, if you're not sure what your favorite color how am I supposed to trust that you know anything about - "

"Fine, I know. I know it's blue." She rolled her eyes at him. "Let me guess, yours it green?"

Actually, it was.

Was he really that predictable? How fucking depressing.

"Next question," he grumbled.

"I swear if you ask what my birthday is, Malfoy, I _will_ kill you."

"Please," he scoffed. "As if I wanted to break into your vault at Gringott's. There's probably nothing there but layers of dust,"

"What does that have to do with - "

Granger cut herself off, causing him to immediately scan his surroundings (habit). Then, she blinked, pursed her lips and gave him an extremely skeptical expression.

"No," she gaped.

"What?" He demanded.

"Malfoy, don't tell me you use your _date of birth_ as a passcode!"

"It's the vault _number_ not a passcode,"

She arched a brow, "That's arguably just as bad. If not worse."

"Fuck you,"

* * *

The days were becoming slightly more bearable.

Draco was still held captive, by Granger no less, that much was still true regrettably. However, she was talking to him now which made the days seem to fly by. Not to mention he was finally able to start putting weight on his leg again, so she was helping him in some perverse form of physical therapy.

Two weeks into his capture, she handed him his morning cup of tea (black, two sugars) as she sat beside him with hers (loads of milk, one sugar). His crutch, which she'd made from transfiguring a sturdy tree branch, rested on the empty chair between them.

There was a newspaper on the table between them, and she slid it over to him, pointing excitedly at the front page of the _Daily Prophet_.

"You're on the front page,"

"I'm almost always on the front page, Granger, that's hardly something to - "

He broke off, reading the headline above a grandiose photo of him: DRACO MALFOY CAPTURED BY DANGEROUS ORDER MEMBER, HERMIONE GRANGER.

"They were spot-on," she said, smiling into her teacup. "A bit unlike them, don't you think?"

"What are you so giddy about?" He snapped, throwing down the paper. "They want you dead, you know. They blame you for my _disappearance_ and even go as far as to say _you_ hunted _me_ down."

"Ah, well, that part is rubbish, yeah." She shrugged. "Voldemort always wants me dead. He wants all of the Order members dead. It's really nothing new,"

She wasn't fucking wrong.

Then, the unbelievable happened. He burst out laughing, stifling it into his inner elbow as best as he could, avoiding her anxious expression.

"Have you gone mad?" She asked, her eyes sweeping cautiously over his body. "Are the potions not working anymore?"

"No, I'm fine," he said, catching his breath and forcing his face into a more appropriate contortion. "It's just - " he paused, clearing his throat and forcing any residual chuckles down. "They think you're holding me _captive_ , Granger."

"I don't…"

"THEY BLOODY NAILED IT," he said, losing control again and having to hold his side between gasps.

"Malfoy,"

"THEY THINK YOU'RE HOLDING ME FOR RANSOM… OR, OR INFORMATION,"

He swiped furiously at his eyes, feeling the delirium start to subside. He reached for his teacup, taking a long swig and letting the scalding liquid sooth his aching throat. Then, he looked at her, at her very concerned expression and rigid body, and felt himself sag.

"Why don't you just kill me?" He whispered.

"I told you, I don't want - "

"But, why?" He begged, willing his voice not to crack. "Is it true? You are holding me for gold or for information? Because if it is, _please_ , just fucking tell me."

She took a deep breath, then met his blood-shot eyes from across the small sitting table. Her unruly curls glowed a particular soft brown, some streaks appearing almost golden in the early morning sunlight, and her eyes were warm, wide and fixed on him intensely.

"I - " She paused, staring at her tea. "That's not it. It's not anything like that,"

"Then, why?"

"I just… I don't want to kill you, ok? I just don't want to. Isn't that enough?"

"No."

What Granger hadn't realized, that he unfortunately had, was the propaganda hidden within the article. Tom was using him to warrant sympathy for his cause, whether it was his current one or another one he planned on introducing shortly. It also reflected poorly on Granger and subsequently the other Order members, but that she had noticed and, as she said, it was nothing new.

Why he was upset by the article was beyond him. It wasn't as if he didn't already know what he was getting himself into when joining the Death Eater's all those years ago, and it hadn't changed much since. If anything, he was even _more_ on the wrong side of the war, but it was also the winning one so…

"Hey,"

He turned over in his cot, letting the covers fall off his shoulders and torso as he did so, and saw Granger standing over him with crossed arms and a reprimanding chin jutting out. He waited for the inevitable lecture, expecting her to go on and on about how he could leave the Dark Side and join her on higher moral ground… blah blah blah

He'd heard it all before.

It still didn't change the fact that Tom was unstoppable, save for whatever the Canary had on him. Apparently, the Canary was basically the new fucking Chosen One in a matter of speaking seeing as whatever he knew about Tom was enough to bring the man to unspeakable violence in pursuit of him.

"What?" He snapped, tired of waiting.

She kicked at a box on the floor, sending it toppling over and spilling out hundreds if not thousands of owl messages, then pulled up the stool and fell into it with a huff.

Her hand reached out to touch his forehead, then his cheek and once again her fingers were cold as ice. He swatted her away, but she only returned with a damp cloth she conjured, dabbing at the sweat that formed on his forehead, his jaw, his neck.

"I thought you were going to lecture me," he said, eying her apprehensively.

"I _was_ ," she admitted, moving the cloth down to the edge of his shirt. "Then, I saw how sick you were and… I don't know. It didn't seem to matter anymore."

He didn't ask why.

She nodded to his soaked shirt, though he couldn't recall her damp cloth being there and assumed it must have been from sweat. Fuck.

"Can you – Err – I mean - "

"Granger, if you wanted me to take my clothes off, you could've just asked. You didn't have to give me a fatal injury and then possibly an infection because you _refused_ to - "

He stopped talking at her widened, guilty eyes. He had been half joking, teasing her really, but then it occurred to him… what if he _was_ sick?

"Take off your clothes," she hissed, "Now."

Then, she tossed the cloth over her head and rushed to the other side of the room, returning just as Draco had managed to peel his shirt over his head, his hair falling onto his forehead in the process. Before he could sweep a hand through it to tame it back to perfection, she pressed him flat into the thin mattress and brandished her wand with her free hand.

Based on her sharp intake of breath and his notable lack of pain in his leg, Draco deduced that something very terrible had come from her attempts to heal him mundanely. Though, much to his relief, she cast several charms over him as his eyes fluttered shut, delivering him into blackness.

* * *

The first thing he saw when he came to was Granger's abhorrently bushy curls framing her abominably flushed complexion. He blinked a few times, waiting for his eyes to adjust, bringing her into focus as he became increasingly aware of what had happened.

"Hey," she breathed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like fucking hell, Granger, what do you think?"

"I thought you were going to die," she confessed, her voice small.

He winced, bringing a hand to his feverish temple. "Not for lack of trying, I can assure you."

She rolled her eyes at him, pressing him back into the pillows – which he could have sworn had doubled since his last state of consciousness – and this time, the icy chill of her fingers on his hot skin felt liberating.

"Don't try to sit up." She commanded bossily. "You're still quite unwell. I did the best I could, but it still looks pretty bad. You're not out of the woods yet."

"No thanks to you," he reminded her. Then, seeing her face drop, he went on. "Hey, don't go all soft on me now."

She immediately backed away from him, "I'll let you rest,"

"No, wait." He shifted to one side of the cot, patting the empty space beside him. "Come here,"

She stared at him in disbelief, "What?"

"Granger, don't make me fucking repeat myself."

"I don't think that's - "

He cut her off, "The infection – Well – Am I contagious?"

"No, but - "

"But nothing," he fluffed the pillow next to him. "For fuck's sake, Granger, I'm not going to ask again so can you, _for one bloody second_ , listen - "

"Fine, fine."

He wasn't exactly sure _why_ he wanted her next to him and was immensely glad when she didn't ask. He was confident he could have made up some bullshite about how her frigid skin pressed against his sweltering body brought much needed relief to the fever he was irrefutably fighting.

She slipped under the covers, settling her body next to his and Draco abandoned any attempt at saving his pride and snaked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him and holding her there. Her cool cheek felt marvelous against his chest.

"Malfoy," she whispered.

"What, Granger?"

"Err," she paused, and he could see that she was biting her lip.

For some unknown reason, that seemed to undo him. Who knew that was all it took?

He pulled her chin up to meet his, then tentatively brushed his lips against hers. It wasn't a kiss, not really. It was experimental. He was testing the waters. Seeing whether or not she was smart enough to pull away from him. To his utter relief, she was not.

She pressed their lips firmly together, closing the space that he had left, and a small sigh of content fell escaped her lips. A low growl emanated deep in his throat, surfacing as he took her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling her on top of him.

"Malfoy," she breathed.

"What, Granger?"

She bit her lip again, driving him wild. There was a moment where her eyes seemed to soften, but then they shifted back to a darker, sensual nature as she shook her head and waved away the notion.

"I – Err – Never mind," she sighed against his lips, then moving to kiss along the edge of his jaw. In turn, his fingers dug into her hips.

Something murderous was happening in his heart; the rest of what followed fell into a hazy feverish dream.

All he could remember later that night as she snuggled up to him, his arms wrapped tightly around her, was the taste of her lips. The heat of them against the side of his neck. The pressure in his chest. The feeling of her disastrous curls tangled in his fingers. The scraping of her nails against his hard stomach.

The thought of, _Why haven't we been doing this the whole time? Why did it take us so long to discover this?_

* * *

"Granger – Hey – Wait – Slow _down_ , will you?"

His ragged breathing causing him to huff loudly between bouts of pleas; she chuckled softly from under the covers, then paused the movement of her hands down his bare chest, her fingers toying absently with the clasp of his trousers. Teasing him. Taunting him. As she always did.

"I didn't realize you had the patience of a _toddler_ ," he mocked.

She rolled her eyes, "It's not my fault you can't keep up, Malfoy."

"Can't keep up?" He repeated, arching a silver brow. "That's it,"

He pulled her back up to his eye level, snaked an arm around her small waist, then roughly flipped her so that he was on top. His elbows held him above her in a plank position, but by slightly shifting his arms so that they rested higher, on either side of her head, he was able to put more of his weight against her.

Thankfully by then, almost exactly three weeks into his captivity, his injured leg was able to bear a considerable amount of weight and was recovering much faster with the introduction of magic to his healing regimen.

"You know," he said, bending his head to rest his forehead against hers, brushing a sweet kiss against her swollen lips. "It's concerning how attached I am to you now."

She laughed against his mouth, "That's the Stockholm Syndrome talking, I'm sure."

"Fuck," he breathed. "That explains it."

Then, because he didn't feel like putting his thoughts and feelings into meaningful words, he took her bottom lip between his and then tugged at it gently with his teeth. She let out a soft moan and he took the opportunity to stifle his own beneath her jawline.

He kissed down the side of her neck, then along her clavicle to her bony shoulder. Then, a saddening image of an underfed and malnourished Granger on the run suddenly appeared behind his closed lids and he promptly shoved it away, promising himself that he would never let her have to suffer like she had the past few years on the run ever again.

With a renewed energy, he shifted his weight to his healthier side which alleviated the pressure on his mangled thigh as well as allowed his free hand to unclasp her jeans and slip beneath her knickers.

White cotton.

 _Motherfucker_.

He took his time with her, wanting to build her slowly so that the release would be all that more pleasurable. That and he wanted her to understand why he hated to rush things like this. Sex was a marathon, not a sprint.

Foreplay could _not_ be understated.

His fingers teased her opening for a long minute until he felt her wriggle underneath his weight, trying to create friction against his palm. He laughed into her neck, nuzzling himself in her wild, humid-inflated curls.

Finally, he slipped a finger in, immediately followed by another and smiled inwardly at the hiss that escaped her lips before she bit down on his earlobe. He curled his fingers, finding her g-spot and spent a few minutes there until he felt her legs start to shake beneath his; not wanting her to come _too_ quickly, he pulled out of her and brought his thumb to her clitoris instead.

She mewled in his ear, losing her mind at precisely the moment he wanted her to.

"Malfoy," she growled.

"What, Granger?" He asked all-too-innocently.

"I want - " she paused, panting. "I want you,"

He pulled his head back to look into her warm, chestnut eyes. "What was that?"

Her eyes narrowed, but then her face relaxed in elation as his thumb continued relentlessly.

"Malfoy," she whined.

"Do you wish you had killed me now?" He teased.

"No," she between gritted teeth, "I want you. I want your cock. NOW"

He smiled mischievously, "Fucking hell, Granger, I didn't know you had such a dirty mouth."

The look she gave him next was homicidal, but again it faded as the pleasure of him filling her slowly and swiftly took over. She was so wet. Gloriously and satisfyingly wet. For him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced (and yes, he has had sex before, but it had been _nothing_ like sex with Granger).

He lost himself in her, pulling himself mostly out and then furiously pounding back into her. Both of them were panting, sweating, whispering incoherently in each other's ears as the tension between their legs built up and up and up.

"Malfoy, yes – _yes_ , yes – holy, _yes_ – _there, there_ \- "

"Fuck, Granger – _fuck_ – you're, you're just – _fuck_ \- "

She moaned loudly and he grunted coarsely, then both of them collapsed on the tiny cot. It took nearly a full five minutes of heavy breathing before either of them was able to move again. She gave him a lazy grin, slinging a naked, cold leg around his hips. He stretched out his arms – happy to be comfortably back on his back – and twisted a frizzy curl between his fingers, brushing the sticky stranding away from her sweat-slicked forehead.

"Do you think you'll ever get tired of it?" She asked, drawing imaginary lines along his bare chest and peering up at him with her too-big brown eyes.

"Sex?" He scoffed, "No, never. I'm a fucking man, Granger, in case that particular fact slipped your clever mind."

She laughed, "I didn't mean that." Then, sobering her voice, she went on. "I meant… Do you think you'll ever get tired of living on the run?"

He blinked.

What the fuck?

What the _fuck?_

"What?" He replied after too many seconds of awkward silence. "What do you mean _on the run_? I'm going back to civilization as soon as I'm healed, Granger."

He ignored the voice in his head that reminded him he was well past healed if he was having sex _like that_ and especially as often as they'd been having it. Not to mention there was technically nothing stopping him from stealing her wand and apparating himself out of here.

"Oh," she said weakly. "I thought maybe… Never mind. It was stupid of me to think that."

Then, she pulled away from him, slipped on an oversized shirt, and took the top cover with her, wrapping it around her body and stumbling toward the cot on the other side of the room without another word. He mentally kicked himself, then pulled his underwear on and sat up, swinging his legs off the edge of his cot and bracing himself to stand.

"You're coming with me,"

"What?"

She spun around, shock and opposition displayed openly on her usually stoic face. The only time he'd really gotten a good read on her in the weeks they'd been together was when they were naked and on top of one another. Other than that, she had remained as difficult to read as she had been when he first became her captive (though now that was hardly an accurate term… hapless love slave was probably more fitting).

"You heard me, Granger."

"I can't come with you, are you mad? They'll kill me."

Draco didn't have to ask who. He tensed his shoulders, "I won't let anything happen to you."

She shook her head, "No, you don't understand. They'll _kill_ me."

"Granger, you're just a lowly member of a disorganized and hopeless group of rebels." He tried to keep his voice steady and calm; diplomatic even. She seemed to respond best to him when he didn't lose his temper. "They won't kill you if you're with me, ok? They can't touch you."

She gave him a look; a despondent, crestfallen and anguished look.

"You can't save me, Malfoy."

"Listen, Tom values me. I'm certain he'll administer some… some rule preventing any other Death Eater from harming you. If you're _with me_ ," he emphasized.

She sighed.

"If I'm with you," she said, her large eyes searching his face. He tried to hide how hurt he felt by clenching his jaw, hoping she wouldn't notice the defensive maneuver.

"If I'm with you," she repeated slowly, "They'll kill me, _and_ they'll kill you."

He shook his head, unwilling to give her up so easily.

"Granger don't be stupid. Like I said, and I mean no offense by this, but you're just another stupid Order member. It's not like you're the fucking Canary or anything,"

Her head tilted, lips pouted, and eyes wilted.

Then, it dawned on him. Spectacularly and extremely despairingly.

"No," he choked. " _No_."

"Malfoy, listen - "

"You're the fucking Canary?" His nails dug into his palms, knuckles turning white. " _You're_ the fucking _Canary_? YOU'RE THE FUCKING CA - "

"Yes," she said, sinking to the floor. "Yes."

"GRANGER, WHAT THE FU - "

She reached an arm out to caress his cheek, and as she did so he felt the impenetrable wall she created to shield her mind, collapse at his touch. She let him see her in her role as the Canary, proving everything, including the fact that she was an exceptionally talented legilimens. Far better than him.

No wonder he hadn't been able to break her; no wonder he had felt _blocked_ every time he brought up anything to do with the Order.

Draco wanted to be angry. He wanted to scream and shout and hurl a thousand accusations at her. Instead, he let the tension in his muscles release and placed his hand over hers.

 _Are you with me?_ He relayed silently.

_They'll kill us both, Malfoy._

_I won't let them._

Suddenly, there were booming explosions coming from outside the tent, alerting both of them to the unwelcomed apparition of intruders to their encampment. She pulled away from his touch, and he felt her impenetrable, mental wall go up again.

He heard a familiar low grumble followed by higher-pitch bickering. His head snapped up to meet her alarmed gaze and a sinking feeling settled low in his stomach as he realized that today marked _exactly_ three weeks of them hiding out here.

Granger was supposed to mend the protective charm surrounding them today just like she did every week on the day… but this time, she hadn't (no thanks to him being balls deep inside of her both last night _and_ this morning).

 _Fuck_.

He knew it would be a matter of seconds before whoever Tom had sent after her would waltz into the tent and kill her. They'd likely kill him too because although he was a skilled legilimens, he was no match for Tom and he was quite certain Tom's favoritism didn't cover lust or love for the enemy.

"Kill me," he said to her.

"No,"

"Fucking hell, Granger!" He hissed. "Whoever is outside right now won't hesitate to kill _you_." _Or me_ , he silently added to himself.

"I'd like to see them try," she replied stiffly.

"This is _not_ the time for your idiotic sense of heroism,"

"I can't leave you,"

"You have to," he begged. Her eyes flickered to his wounded leg and he could see the pain in her eyes. "I'm a liability. You can probably get away, run far away or apparate, without me holding you back. You need to leave me, Granger, and you need to kill me."

"I can't!" She wailed.

"You have to. For fuck's sake, Granger, do it before they - "

Too late.

_Fuck._

_Fuck fuck fuck_.

His heart sank when the Carrow twins walked through the tent's flap. Alecto was a skilled legilimens and could read him in minutes; she would know Granger's secret _as well as_ his altercations with her.

He was royally, properly, and utterly _fucked_.

They both were.

"My, my," Alecto said, taking in the scene before her with hungry, beady eyes. "What have we here?"

Amycus strode over to where Granger was sitting on the floor, perched inches away from where Draco sat at the edge of his cot.

"Well, Sister," Amycus drawled. "I believe we've found the enigmatic Draco Malfoy… and – Oh look! – His mudblood plaything! Godric, Draco, you didn't mention Tom assigned you to her for _this_ ,"

Alecto lowered the hood of her Death Eater robes, her platinum hair falling into perfect waves, and grinned devilishly at Draco.

He willed himself to remain strong for Granger's sake. If Alecto even so much as _suspected_ …

"Sister," Amycus ventured. "I know we came here to kill the mudblood, but would it be so terrible if Draco were to… Oh, I don't know… die in the crossfire?"

Alecto slid her icy gaze from Draco to her brother, then the corners of her mouth twitched up infinitesimally.

"Excellent idea, Brother," she remarked.

Amycus' wand was at Draco's throat before he dared to inhale another breath.

"No!" Granger squealed. "Don't touch him! Don't you _dare_!"

"Hush," Alecto said, flicking her wand so that Granger ended up bound by rope to one of the nearby wooden chairs.

Amycus only laughed, a cruel and maniacal laugh that reminded him extremely uncomfortably of his aunt.

"Let me guess," Amycus taunted. "Your father will hear about this?"

He erupted again into a fit of maddening laughter; his sister merely huffed her indignation. It seemed as though she was not fond of having to follow through with this particular errand and wanted it to be done with sooner rather than later.

"Hurry up and kill him, will you?" She said impatiently, proving his suspicions regrettably correct.

"LET HIM GO," Granger roared, fighting her restraints. "TAKE ME INSTEAD!"

"No," he croaked.

" _Shut up_ ," Amycus hissed at the same time Alecto's eyes narrowed, her gaze flickering from Granger's to his, then back again.

Draco could practically see the wheels turning in her vile mind.

"Why - " She began quietly, addressing no one in particular – "Would a filthy mudblood, a member of the insipid Order no less, volunteer to take the place of a notorious Death Eater, responsible for killing her precious allies?"

"They were _fucking_ ," Amycus spat. "I thought that was quite obvious, Sister."

"Oh, no," she tilted her head, analyzing the two of them with excruciating deliberateness. "It's much more than that, I think, dear Brother."

"Does it really matter? We're going to kill both of them anyway, right?"

Amycus twisted his wand further into Draco's windpipe, rendering him effectively mute.

"Too true," Alecto agreed, shrugging her delicate shoulders beneath the heavy, black robes.

"NO," Granger bellowed. "DON'T TOUCH HIM. LET HIM GO. TAKE ME. _TAKE ME_ ,"

Amycus ignored her, " _Ava_ \- "

" - _NO_! - "

"Wait,"

Alecto held up her hand, stopping her brother's curse, and focused her piercing blue eyes on Granger with renewed curiosity.

"Why would you think you would be more valuable to us alive than dead?"

Amycus grunted his disapproval, "When did she say that, Sister?"

"She said 'Take me' not 'Kill me', Brother. _Do_ listen more closely, will you?" She sighed. Then, Alecto crossed the room to stare at Granger. "Why?" She pressed.

Granger hesitated.

" _Crucio_ ,"

Draco writhed in pain, feeling the pain of a thousand bites occurring all over his body. Every inch of his skin was on _fire_. Nothing would make it stop. Nothing would alleviate the pain. Only death. It was always death.

Then, mercifully, it stopped.

He blinked back tears, trying to drag his exhausted body up from its new position on the ground to see Granger glaring at Alecto furiously through her own tears.

"I'll reveal everything to him just… just let Draco go. Take me instead. Take me. Let him go."

"Hm," Alecto said, reveling in her newfound discovery. "The Canary _would_ be quite the catch, and not to mention it would certainly result in us taking Malfoy's place as Tom's favorite, don't you think Brother?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely." He agreed.

"Wait," Granger said, panicked. "You said – You _promised_ -"

"Ah, yes, well… We lied." Alecto replied, grinning mischievously. "Hurry up, now, Brother. We have more important things to attend to, today."

"Yes, Sister."

Draco readied himself, coiled to attack, and the second Amycus turned away from his sister and Granger, he dispelled a swift _confringo_ onto him. He flung himself toward the dropped wand, taking it in his hand – the one that wasn't tightly gripping Granger's wand – as he narrowly avoided the collapsing body engulfed in flames.

Then, he ducked an incoming hex from Alecto and bit his lip as he brought himself to his feet, bearing weight on his bad leg with gritted teeth.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

" _Stupefy!"_

He barely missed the curse, his own spell hitting something just to the right of Alecto's head, and he suddenly reprimanded himself for allowing Granger's infuriating sense of morality seep into his veins.

He should be flinging his own bloody _Avada's_ not countering them with fucking _stupefy_ 's.

Fucking hell.

Their spells, his changing between numerous hexes and jinxes while hers remained consistent on the one, finalizing curse, continued to bounce off the walls of the tent, avoiding hitting either of them (and luckily Granger, too who was still bound to the chair).

"You're a traitor, Malfoy." Alecto snapped, ducking an _obscuro_.

"Eh," he huffed, "I've been called worse."

Finally, a body-binding spell struck her with a brute force, sending her petrified body into the table, splitting it in two and disappearing beneath the splintered wood. He rushed over to Granger, releasing her from her binds and placing her wand back in her hand, pocketing Amycus' before stepping through the broken wood to retrieve Alecto's.

Draco let his hand hover behind the small of her back, leading her outside the tent and hobbling along with her. Then, he directed unconscious bodies of the Carrow twins to a rough patch in the woods and, to be safe, murmured an _obliviate_ over both of them.

He returned to the campsite and took Granger's hand in his, finally exhaling a sigh of equal parts relief and content. He glanced briefly at her, pursing his lips, before setting her entire camp aflame.

"Sorry about your home," he muttered. Then, because he couldn't help himself, added, "Well, if it really even qualifies for a home. For fuck's sake, Granger, the least you could do was invest in a proper mattress."

"You're wrong, you know." She said, wistfully.

He arched a skeptical brow, "About what?"

"You still _are_ an egotistical prat,"

He groaned as she stifled a laugh in his neck, leaning into him. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"What happens now?" She asked tentatively.

"We buy you a bigger tent," he replied automatically. "One suitable for an egotistical prat."

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder as they watched the flames slowly destroy the encampment.

"Why don't you just kill me instead?"

"I don't want to kill you," he shrugged. "Call it my debilitating belief in morals."

"Ha- _ha_ ," she replied gruffly, then shoved him, but he could feel her ribs vibrating against his as she hid her laughter.

He shook his head, fighting the smile threatening to break out on his face.

"Fuck you,"

"Please do,"

**END**


End file.
